


Since You Been Gone

by camichats



Series: Imagine James and Sirius Prompts [177]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, James Potter Lives, M/M, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Resurrection, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27201328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camichats/pseuds/camichats
Summary: James gets brought back to life somehow, and he knows that he should be happy about it. Hewantsto be happy about it, but his mind can't stop reminding him about all the time Sirius spent in Azkaban and all the years he missed.
Relationships: Sirius Black/James Potter
Series: Imagine James and Sirius Prompts [177]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/752925
Comments: 4
Kudos: 85





	Since You Been Gone

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: “Please could you do angsty James comes back to life and finds out Sirius has been in Azkaban and feels really guilty about it. Thanks!” 
> 
> Not sure this was the type of angsty the prompter had in mind, but here we are.

James loved Sirius. He loved him so much that sometimes it felt like he couldn't breathe. He couldn't find the words to explain how much he loved him, but that hadn't stopped him from trying-- a dozen poorly written poems that were probably long since lost to the elements had been proof of those attempts. 

Loving Sirius was always good. Being in love with him wasn't always good, though. It was hard. They couldn't have all the good things from a relationship without also having a few bad things. It meant figuring out how to comfort him because sometimes a really nice hug wasn't enough. There were nightmares and long nights, and a hundred different misunderstandings that James hadn't known to expect and had difficulty patching up-- and all of that had been _before_ the war started. After the war, it was hard to be in love with him because he never knew which time would be the last time they got to see each other or which kiss would be the last one for the night. 

Sometimes Sirius would tell him that he loved him, and it didn't make him feel better. He loved Sirius so much, and the chance for losing him was too damn high. If Sirius died, James wouldn't know what to do with himself; he wouldn't know how to live. Worrying about it nearly made him sick some days. He'd never felt better than when he was with Sirius, and he'd also never felt worse. It was a trade-off, he supposed, and it was one he would choose to make each and every day because it was worth it. 

Then James died. 

And he came back. 

Loving Sirius was as easy and wonderful and amazing as it had always been. Being in love with him was harder than it used to be. It's not like Sirius had gotten more difficult or summat, but... Azkaban. Sirius had been in Azkaban. The nightmares weren't actually worse to deal with than the ones he'd used to have from Grimmauld Place, but these felt different to James. Grimmauld Place had been horrible for Sirius because of his parents; he'd only been in Azkaban because of James. Sirius had gotten locked up there because of him. It was his fault that that had happened. Sirius tried to say that it had nothing to do with him, but if James had just carried his bloody wand, he would've been able to apparate away in time, and they all would've survived it. It was his fault that Sirius had been in Azkaban for twelve years, and he was horribly aware of that fact. 

It was his fault. 

* * *

James's eyes were stuck on the pan, watching the eggs cook. It looked like he was very interested in seeing the egg whites cook through at the edges, but his mind was a million miles away. Sirius had a dozen new scars interspersed with tattoos James had never seen before. He'd asked Sirius about it last night, fingers trailing along his ribs. He'd thought that it would make for a good story, but Sirius had gotten all sad and mumbled that he'd gotten the scar on his collarbone from another dog after he broke out of Azkaban-- that's how he'd phrased it: 'another dog', not 'a dog'. 

"Dad?" Harry asked, his voice coming from somewhere near the doorway. 

James pulled on an automatic smile and turned to face him. "Hey sprog." Sprog that was like six years younger than him. Seven, at most. "You're up early." 

"It's seven," Harry said as he got closer, like that wasn't plenty early. 

James chuckled. "When I was your age, you couldn't _pry_ me out of bed before nine." 

Right after he started talking, Sirius came into the room too. "That's funny," Sirius said. "All I had to do was ask, and you bounced right up." 

"Well that was different," James said, turning back to the stove. "Anyone want eggs?" He wasn't actually hungry. He'd needed something to do, some sort of excuse so that people didn't (rightly) accuse him of brooding. He hoped someone said yes so that he could offload them. 

"I'll take some," Harry said. 

"Great. Sirius?" 

"Nah, I'm not hungry yet," Sirius said, coming up behind James and wrapping his arms around his waist. He hooked his chin over James's shoulder. 

James didn't relax against him. He didn't deserve that comfort. In the war, he should've _insisted_ that Sirius stay the secret keeper. He'd let them switch to Peter because Sirius had looked so desperate, but he hadn't wanted to. Sirius had held his life in his hands, and that's exactly where James had wanted it. He shouldn't have let Sirius change his mind. If he'd stuck to what he wanted, none of this would've happened. Sirius wouldn't have that haunted look in his eyes any time he stopped laughing; Sirius wouldn't be so thin that James could count each and every rib when he laid down. 

He did like that Sirius was comfortable enough to do this with him again, though. When he'd first gotten back, Sirius hadn't initiated anything. Not a single touch, let alone kisses or hugs. This was a good thing for Sirius. He'd come a long way in a very short amount of time, and James was happy for him. He was happy for him in a small, specific way that sort of paled in comparison for what he was being forced to get over. 

* * *

James wasn't used to hating himself. He used to be a pretty great bloke, all things considered, and he generally liked himself. What wasn't to like? He was amazing. Based on Quidditch prowess alone, he was one of the better people he'd ever met. That Sirius loved him bumped him rather solidly up to the top, with his handsome face an added bonus like the cherry on top of a sundae. 

The problem now was that he was buggering horrible. Not bad enough to be at the bottom of the list, but he was so fucking low he might as well be on the floor. It was a crock of shite. How had this happened? Life wasn't fair, he knew that, but it was quite another thing to say that Lily was still dead and Harry had grown up around people that hated and feared him and Sirius had spent twelve years locked in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit, and _James_ was the one that managed to skip all the terrible shite. He died sure, but he came back. He was given the love of his life, their son, a new wand... everything. He'd been given back everything. And he didn't deserve any of it. 

He sodding hated this. 

Harry was okay-- mostly-- and that was good! It was great, even. But half the time when James looked at him, he didn't recognise him. He looked like family, sure, but he wasn't the baby that James had held a year ago. He would recognise that baby if he saw him again, but it had been years. It had been years since James had been alive, and that meant that Harry had went and grown up. He was his own person, with opinions and mates of his own, and James had missed out on all the time where he got those things. 

To everyone else, James had been gone/dead for fourteen years. To James, he'd been knocked out with an injury and woke up to find that everyone was different to what he'd known. Some things were incredibly similar. His father's house, for example, looked exactly the way that it had when he'd last seen it. Sirius _looked_ different, but he was ultimately the same. Some of his edges were rougher-- both physically and emotionally-- but the base was the same as it had always been. 

It was easier with everyone else than it was with Harry. James was supposed to have been there for him for each and every step he took, and he'd missed all of it. Lily would know what to do if she was here. It's not that she always made the right decisions, but she didn't like not having a plan. When she was uncertain, she would make a plan. She used to tell him that everything was better with a plan, even if the plan was 'wait and think more', because at least then he would have something to work towards. 

James didn't have a plan, here. People had been asking him what he planned on doing-- about Harry, about Sirius, about the war-- and he never had an answer. He didn't even have the plan to wait and think more. He was just... focusing on Sirius. Pretending that everything was fine because if he tried to think about everything else, he couldn't get himself to stand. 

* * *

"Are you okay?" Sirius asked. 

James turned to him, a smile coming automatically to his face. "'Course. Why, what's up?" 

"That smile, for one." 

"Er, okay?" James said, his expression turning into something more like a frown. "I can be miserable if that's what you want, but I gotta say that it's a little weird." 

Sirius didn't say anything for a moment, but he looked worried. 

"Are _you_ okay?" 

He raised one hand and rubbed his thumb over James's cheek. Not the cheekbone, but the round, middle part where it would plump up when he smiled. "You keep smiling when you're not happy. You want to explain that to me?" 

James's smile came back automatically. "What are you talking about? I'm fine." 

"Like that," Sirius said, looking more worried than before. "Right now you're smiling, but you're not feeling it. You're allowed to be sad." 

He imagined that, were his calm emotions a marble counter, there would be a massive crack in it. It was jarring. He'd thought he was hiding it pretty well. Smile, and no one would notice that he wasn't feeling as great as he pretended. He should've known that Sirius would realise it, but he'd hoped that he wasn't looking that closely. After all, Sirius had enough to deal with without worrying about what James was doing now that he was alive again. "I'm fine," James said again. "Stop worrying." 

"Don't lie to me," Sirius said quietly. James swallowed. He didn't like lying to Sirius, but it had been over something so small this time that he didn't think it really counted. Evidently, Sirius did not feel the same way about it. "If you're not upset, then you're covering something else up. So what is it? You can't keep on like you have been." When James didn't say anything, he said, "Talk to me. Whatever it is, I promise I can deal with it." 

"It's nothing," James said, but it was weak. 

Sirius didn't even have to say anything else. All he had to do was keep looking at him, and James broke. The crack in his calm deepened until it fell into two separate pieces, and he started to cry. He didn't even feel like he _needed_ to cry; he just started to, and he couldn't make himself stop. Sirius held him the entire time. He didn't tell him that it was okay or that he was safe or any of the things that James normally said to Sirius when their positions were reversed; it made James feel a little better because there _wasn't_ a fix to this. The world had changed when he wasn't around, and now he had to deal with that. Making it better meant that he had to adapt, not that the world needed to change back to the way it had been before. 

When James's sobs tapered off into sniffles, Sirius said, "If it- if it's about us or me, you can tell me that." 

James immediately shook his head. "It's not." His voice sounded small and croaky to his ears from crying, but maybe that was just in his head and not anything that Sirius could hear. "Not really." 

Sirius was quiet for a moment, smoothing his hand up and down James's back. James could straighten, could get his face out of Sirius's shirt now that he wasn't really crying anymore, but he didn't want to. Not looking at him made it easier. "Not really?" Sirius repeated. 

"You were in Azkaban." 

"So?" 

"So? _So_? What the hell do you mean by that?" James asked, shooting up to stare at him, dumbfounded. His initial idea to not look him in the face went right out the window. How could he be so flippant about it? 

Sirius squirmed a little at the sudden scrutiny. "It happened. There's nothing we can do about it. I don't want to think about it because it makes me feel worse. I just want to focus on what we have now." 

"Just like that? It's that easy for you?" 

"James..." Sirius reached over, putting a hand on the back of James's neck. "I thought I'd lost you. Forever. I never thought I'd see you again, but you're here. You're _back_. I don't care about the other shite. I would've done _anything_ to see you again. Twelve years in Azkaban was worth it now that you're here." 

James started to tear up again. He shook his head. "Nothing's worth that," he choked out. 

"I disagree," Sirius said softly, and it was that simple for him. 

* * *

James curled up against Sirius's side. Sirius always slept on his back, so it was easy for James to sleep cuddled up to him. He looked worlds better than he had when James had first gotten back. He still wasn't up to his normal weight, but he didn't look quite so emaciated anymore. 

He got to know Harry. It was weird to be more like his older brother than a father, but at least he had the chance to know him. 

He didn't feel like he'd been awake for very long, but it must have been because when Sirius shifted and James lifted his head, he could feel that the half of his face that had been on Sirius's shoulder was imprinted with red. 

"How long have you been awake?" Sirius asked sleepily, his words slurring together. 

"I dunno." 

"You okay?" 

James thought about it before answering since Sirius didn't like when he said yes automatically. He put his head back down where it had been before. It wasn't quite as comfortable as it had been ten seconds ago. "I think so. Things are... getting better." 

Sirius nodded, then yawned. "You gonna get back to sleep?" 

"Are you getting up?" 

"Yeah." 

"Then no. I'll just get up with you." 

Sirius nodded again, turning his head so that he had a face full of James's hair. "Love you," he breathed. 

"Yeah." Somewhere along the way, he'd forgotten that for a few weeks. It had taken Sirius saying it a couple dozen times before he properly remembered. "Yeah, I love you too." He knew that the way his hand tightened on Sirius was slightly uncomfortable, but he eased up after a moment. He needed the constant reminder that Sirius was there; the same way that he knew Sirius liked constant reminders that James was still there. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is from a prompt driven blog @[imaginejamesandsirius](https://imaginejamesandsirius.tumblr.com) on tumblr. Feel free to drop by!


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